Into the Woods

This is a piece on the use of Scottish Hardwoods that I wrote for FLORA CELTICA by William Milleken & Sam Bridgewater- a lavishly produced and illustrated book on Scottish plants and the people who use them. Published by The Scottish Royal Botanic Garden, Edinburgh.2004

"Into the woods,Each time you go,There's more to learnOf what you know".

I don't want to be cremated. It would be a waste of fuel as I won't burn easily. Place me six foot under in a wooden box (some unspectacular softwood will be fine) and plant a fruit tree over me. I want my return to the soil to enrich a tree as trees are currently enriching my life.What type of tree? At the moment my favorite wood is plum. Currently we are making bagpipes from a large plum tree from Peebles that blew down over five years ago. Now seasoned, I cut it open to reveal wondrous pinks and magentas alongside areas of brown. Boring it can be a headache. It has a mind of its own. Full of swirls and small pockets of resin that can deflect the long thin drill, resulting in an infuriating graceful internal arc instead of a rifle- straight bore down the centre which is what we aim for. One more billet in the firewood sack. On some days plum decides not to be turned easily- on other days it willingly complies . The finished pieces retain magenta specks and flecks, but once soaked in oil these fade and within a few months are gone. The wood mellows to a rich dark nut brown. Bagpipes in plum look spectacular.

"The woods are just treesThe trees are just wood".Different woods evoke different feelings in me. I love yew. We use a lot of yew. It has strange associations- curious wood and, like the tree, I sometimes sense, dark and foreboding. It contains poisons and mysteries. I feel uneasy about breathing its dust. Boxwood is wonderful- the clear yellow wood, so hard and pure and difficult to find. Prized for centuries by woodwind instrument makers for its tone. Not prized by me for its smell. I use it as an ivory substitute. All work with long pieces of boxwood is tinged with risk as it has a less- than- charming habit of bending dramatically once a piece is turned and finished. I don't want either of these over me, thank you.